Friendship is the Best Medicine
by Lyrical Liquorice
Summary: When Arthur gets sick, and Merlin's left to look after him, Merlin inevitably gets sick. Arthur takes special care of his servant. The writing equivalent to doodling. Sick!Arthur Sick!Merlin Caring!Arthur


**Friendship is the Best Medicine.**

**Sorry for the sucky writing.  
>Just some Arthur and Merlin friendship.<br>Sick!Arthur Sick!Merlin Caring!Arthur  
>Please leave feedback you awesome readers!<strong>

Arthur wasn't sick. Future kings don't get sick. Yet it took all his strength to keep his face from rather swiftly greeting the cold stone floor of his chambers.

By grasping the bedpost with one hand and burying his pounding forehead, which felt as though it had doubled in size, in the other, he was able to just about remain vertical. Sinking onto the edge of the bed, he rested his head in his hands to hide from the imminent dawn.

When Merlin entered his chambers without knocking, Arthur was mildly thankful. Until Merlin started to clatter about as usual, making as much noise as physically possible, and in turn making Arthur's head pound.

Opening the curtains was the final straw, the sudden rays of light making his stomach turn. Arthur let a groan escape his lips. Looking up, he saw his servant pause, staring at Arthur with searching eyes. Apparently, Merlin heard.

"What?" Arthur forced out.

"Are you alright?"

The future king didn't answer, merely ran a hand through his hair as casually as he could manage given how hard he was struggling to keep his stomach contents where they should be.

"You look a little...ill", Merlin continued, crossing to Arthur and attempting to check for a fever.

Arthur recoiled immediately, but the action made his head spin, giving Merlin a chance to press his hand firmly against Arthur's pale cheek.

"You're a bit hot."

"I'm fine, Merlin."

As if to prove his point, Arthur got to his feet, and credit to him, managed to do it without swaying. In relative silence, Merlin got Arthur into his armour and outside for training, an event Arthur usually took pleasure in while Merlin hated. What was there to be liked about being hit repeatedly on the head by a self-obsessed prat? The answer being nothing.

They were about half an hour in when Arthur paused, throwing his sword to the ground. If he were being honest, Merlin was thankful for the break and took the opportunity to toss his shield the the ground, flexing his tight muscles.

Until Arthur swayed a little and crashed -_ literally_, with the armour he was wearing - to the ground. His words falling on deaf ears, Merlin crashed to his knees by his side, pulling of his master's helmet to reveal Arthur blinking his way back into consciousness, squinting at the sun shining in his eyes. Merlin's eyes flicked over the shadowed eyes, the pale face, the way his hair and skin were slick with sweat so early into the training session.

"Arthur?"

"I..."

"You passed out."

Confusion briefly shifted over Arthur's features, before clamping a gloved fist to his mouth, pushing himself up on weak arms. The sun was too bright, too hot. His armour too tight.

"Sire?"

Merlin didn't have time to ask what was wrong, and Arthur didn't have time to address Merlin's worried tone before he was pushing himself away from his servant and retching onto the grass, emptying what little was in his stomach.

Merlin knelt in silence by the Prince, a steady hand rubbing circles on his back, feeling Arthur's whole body shuddering in the spring sun. If he were well, Arthur might complain, but at the moment, Merlin's touch was comforting through the hot armour, though he'd never let his servant know that.

When Arthur had finished retching, and his stomach muscles convulsing, he didn't take much convincing to go back indoors. Although, he made sure that Merlin knew it was _Arthur's_ idea.

*

Once again, Arthur was perched on the edge of his bed, his armour scattered on the cold floor, and his throbbing head rested in his hands.

"Shall I send for Gaius?"

"I'm fine, Merlin."

But his hot, pale skin and shaking hands contradicted the prince's words. Merlin rolled his eyes.

"I'm sending for Gaius. Just...wait here."

Despite Arthur's weak protests, Gaius was called and after a series of prods and pokes, the Prince was ordered to stay in bed and a variety of syrups and medicines were left with Merlin, who appeared to have been appointed as Arthur's carer.  
>"Is it contagious?" Merlin asked.<br>Gaius only smiled as he left.

Soon, Arthur was in bed and rather unhappy to be so, considering he was supposed to be out training the knights.  
>"I'm going to go and get some water. Will you be alright?"<p>

"I'm not a child, Merlin, don't patronise me."

"I'll take that as a yes then." Merlin grinned before leaving, planning to make his journey a swift one.

*

Before Merlin even opened the door, he heard the harsh coughing from inside the room. Entering, he saw Arthur slumped against the wall a few feet from the bed, forcing in shaking breaths as the fit passed.

Practically running to him, Merlin knelt beside Arthur on the floor, a reassuring hand on his shoulder. They stayed like that until Arthur's breathing fell into a regular rhythm before Merlin wrapped an arm around Arthur's waist, helping him upright. Slowly, Arthur made it to the bed, curling in on himself.

The exhausted state Arthur was in aided Merlin's attempt to get the red covers tucked around his shivering body.

"I'm fine." Arthur protested.

"No, you're a prat."

"Merlin..."

"Arthur..." Merlin mimicked in a whining tone.

"You really shouldn't address me like that."

"You should do as you're told. Why didn't you stay in bed?"

There was an edge to Merlin's voice that Arthur had never heard before, but he was already fighting the heaviness forming in his eyelids.

"Sorry." He managed to murmur before sleep claimed him.

*

This peaceful state was short-lived and as the evening drew close, Arthur was brought back to a conscious state by another fit of coughing. Merlin sat beside the bed, gritting his teeth as the desperate coughs forced their way out of Arthur's lungs, watching Arthur's watering eyes spill over and trickle down his flushed cheeks. Once the fit passed, Merlin pressed his hand against Arthur's clammy forehead before getting up to find the syrup Gaius had left with him.

"Merlin..."

"Yes?"

"I think I'm dying."

Merlin smiled, and took the small bottle to Arthur's bedside.

"You're not dying. But at least you're not protesting that you're completely healthy."

Arthur's blue eyes were bright with fever, his damp blonde hair sticking to his forehead, but there was the unmistakable hint of a smile forming on his chapped lips.

"Here, drink this."

Merlin handed the bottle to Arthur, who eyed it first with suspicion, before the discomfort won over and he drank the contents.

"Do you want anything to eat?"

Arthur's eyes fell on the covered tray on the table, his stomach rolling at the thought. He swallowed and shook his head, stopping when the action made the room spin. Breathing deeply, Arthur shut his eyes against the sunset streaming through the closed curtains.

"How are you feeling?"

"My eyes hurt, I feel sick, my throat hurts, my stomach hurts, my head hurts-"

"But your mouth seems fine..." Merlin mumbled and Arthur let a small smile crawl across his lips.

Merlin's eyes drifted to Arthur's hand, which was now knuckling his chest.

"Does your chest hurt, too?" he asked.

"Hm?" Arthur looked down, noticing his hand, and stilling it. "Oh. A little."

Once again the pained expression on Arthur's face betrayed his words and Merlin picked up a jar from the collection now littering the table.

"Take off your shirt."

"What?" Arthur's eyebrows nearly became lost in his hairline.

"Take off your shirt. Trust me, it'll help."

Perhaps it was Arthur's drowsiness that made him obey Merlin's request, but obey him he did, slipping his nightshirt slowly over his head and letting it fall to the floor. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Merlin dipped his fingers into the jar.

Gentle fingers massaged the gel into Arthur's chest, and the confused look fell from the prince's features, melting into an expression of relief. A small groan left Arthur's lips and Merlin smirked, working in the mixture with the heal of his hand. He worked quickly as Arthur began to shiver, his fingertips brushing over the mixture of old and new battle scars that delicately decorated the prince's body.

"Better?"

"Mm."

When Merlin had finished, and the jar placed back on the table, Arthur was starting to shiver and sweat at the same time, his lips pressed tightly together to keep his teeth from visibly chattering. But the look of relief still glistened in his half open eyes.

Leaning over, Merlin pulled the crimson covers over Arthur's chest and tucked them tightly around his muscular frame. He reached for the rag resting over the bowl Gaius had prepared and soaked it in the cold water, placing it on Arthur's forehead, who squirmed at the uncomfortable presence.

"Don't be such a baby."

"It's uncomfortable."

"You're burning up."

"I'm not. I'm positively freezing."

"That'd be the fever, turnip head."

"Turnip head? That's a new one."

Merlin shot Arthur a glare.  
>"Go to sleep."<p>

Arthur smirked in victory and snuggled into his pillow.

*

The next time Arthur woke, it was dark. His pounding head was subsiding, but his chest ached with every breath and he couldn't seem to control his shivering.

He desperately wanted some of the gel Merlin had so carefully rubbed into his sore skin the day before, but when he turned to look for his servant, he found him sound asleep in the chair by the bed.

Without the heart to wake him, Arthur resolved to try and get back to sleep, an action that soon proved fruitless when his breath caught and he found himself trying to hold back the impending coughing fit, the back of his hand pressed to his chapped lips.

He succeeded for all of 30 seconds, before he rolled onto his side away from Merlin, letting the harsh fit take over him. Arthur was so overcome that he didn't even hear Merlin rouse and rush around to the other side of the bed, one hand rubbing Arthur's bare chest, and the other brushing the damp hair back from his forehead. It wasn't until the coughing subsided, leaving Arthur forcing in wheezing breaths, his face red and his head and chest throbbing, that he noticed his servant.

"Merlin..." he gasped, forcing in ragged breaths.

"For once in your life, shut up." Merlin ordered, holding a small bottle of syrup to Arthur's lips, using the other hand to hold the prince's head up off the pillow.  
>"Drink."<p>

And Arthur did, falling back onto the bed, and squeezing his eyes shut and trying to focus on steadying his breathing. The bed dipped a little as Merlin perched on the edge of the bed. The prince almost protested when Merlin pulled back the blankets, letting cold air brush his feverish skin. Almost protested until he felt the soothing touch of Merlin massaging whatever that gel was into his aching chest. He must remember to thank Gaius for that little miracle. Carefully, Merlin tucked the blankets back around Arthur.

He laid a hand against Arthur's cheek, fighting off a smile when Arthur leaned into the soothing touch.

"You're cool." Arthur sighed.

"And you're still hot."

"I'm fine..."

"The few brain cells you have are going to cook." Merlin smiled before dipping the rag back into the cold water, pressing it against Arthur's neck, then his cheeks and forehead.

After getting up to re-light the fire, the manservant turned back to find Arthur fighting to keep his eyes open.

"You should sleep."

"So should you."

"Believe me, sire. I'm planning too." Merlin smiled, settling back into the chair by Arthur's bed.

"Thank you, Merlin." Arthur murmured, allowing the exhaustion to pull him under.

*

Stirring, Arthur was glad to notice that the fire was still slightly burning, and only small streams of light were finding their way through gaps in the curtains, promising that dawn was soon. He surveyed his servant who was sleeping restlessly in the chair by Arthur's bed.

He might have missed it earlier, but now he could clearly see the sheen of sweat glistening on Merlin's pale skin and the dark shadows forming under his eyes. Sleeping, but not really resting.

Arthur shifted, watching as Merlin turned in the chair, features screwed up as frantic words left his lips.

"Merlin" he whispered, watching as his servant mumbled and shifted in his sleep.  
>"Merlin", he repeated.<br>By the third time, Merlin stirred and his eyes drifted open, his breathing quick.

"It looked like you were having a bad dream."  
>Merlin rubbed his eyes.<p>

"Are you alright?" Arthur asked, studying Merlin with his own aching eyes.

"Fine."

The manservant got up to stoke the fire, using the opportunity to run his hand over his throbbing head while his back was turned. Drawing a breath, Merlin pressed his fist to his mouth trying to quietly clear the tickle in his throat. Obviously not quiet enough, seeing as Arthur called for him to turn around and go to his bedside.

"Are you sure that you're ok?"

"Just tired."

"Do you usually shiver when you're _just tired_?"

Merlin didn't even realise he had been shivering, although he now felt a chill run through his small frame.  
>"No."<p>

"If you ask me, it looks like you're coming down with what I've got."

"It's a good job I'm not asking you then, isn't it?" He forced a hint of a smile.

"There's no need for sarcasm, Merlin. Don't you know it's the lowest form of wit?"

Arthur was pretty sure he heard yet another sarcastic retort, but didn't bother asking his servant to repeat himself.

The next few hours passed uneventfully, with Merlin producing tonics and syrups for Arthur to drink, and with Arthur surveying Merlin's every move. He made a mental note every time Merlin cleared his throat, or a shiver ran through his body.

It was around mid-morning when Merlin excused himself and practically ran for the door, leaving it open behind him. Arthur laid there, listening as Merlin's body tried to turn his stomach inside out.

Pulling himself out of bed, and dragging a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, Arthur struggled to remain upright as he headed for the corridor beyond his chambers. The sudden movement made his head ache, and he rested his forehead against the doorframe as soon as he reached his servant. Merlin was leaning heavily against the stone wall, breathing hard with the back of his wrist pressed to his lips. There wasn't anything in his stomach to throw up, which had probably made the event worse, and Arthur was certain that Merlin's stomach was cramping painfully.

"You really are an idiot sometimes, Merlin."

"You should be in bed."

Arthur snorted.  
>"So should you, by the looks of you."<p>

Merlin didn't answer, turning away from Arthur as his face paled and he retched again. Arthur shuffled closer, reaching out a hand and kneading the back of Merlin's neck like Uther used to do when Arthur got sick. A pained expression crossed Arthur's features as Merlin dragged in shaking breaths, as though breathing was a chore instead of a necessity. His hand slid to Merlin's back, rubbing lightly as tears spilled from the servant's glazed eyes.

"Come on", Arthur whispered when Merlin was done, wrapping an arm around his shoulders while the other hand gripped the blanket, carefully guiding him back into his room, locking the door behind them.

Arthur walked Merlin to the bed, attempting to steady his servant as he swayed on the spot, seemingly on the verge of passing out all together.  
>"Get in".<p>

Merlin looked at him with confusion, but after eyeing the comfortable looking bed, he slowly kicked off his shoes and hauled himself onto the bed and Arthur crawled in next to him. Merlin tried to keep as much space between him and Arthur as possible, who obviously had other ideas when he pulled the soft red covers around his servant and shuffled closer. Merlin was thankful when Arthur wrapped his arms around him, rubbing Merlin's arms and back to warm him up.

"No one's to know about this, Merlin. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal." Through clenched teeth.

Merlin had an arm wrapped around his clenching stomach as he curled in on himself, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Here was the crowned prince of Camelot, curled up in bed with his manservant, running his hand over his clammy forehead and feeling a fever that most likely matched his own a few hours previously. Pained whimpers came from Merlin and Arthur's brow furrowed in concern. It seemed as though Merlin had been hit harder with the illness.

"It's alright."Arthur soothed, leaning over to re-wet the rag, pressing it messily against Merlin's cheeks and forehead. "It'll pass. Trust me."

"Don't", Merlin murmured, his eyes shut tight as he tried to wriggle away from the cold cloth being pressed to his feverish skin.

"What was it you said to me? Don't be such a baby." 


End file.
